


watch closely

by fiveblessings



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveblessings/pseuds/fiveblessings
Summary: The simple fact is that Jungwoo feels best when he looks pretty, and he looks prettiest when he’s dolled up in lace and silk.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	watch closely

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sure i didn't imagine this but there's a video where jungwoo says he feels cutest when he looks in the mirror after he has he makeup done sooo here we are !!

Jungwoo had never paid it much mind, his affinity for pretty things.

It had never bothered him when he was young as his sister draped him in her favourite dresses and practised on his face with their mum’s makeup. It hadn’t bothered him before he had hit his growth spurt in his late teens and he’d try to balance in the expensive heels lined the bottom of his parent’s wardrobe to make up for what he still lacked in height. It hadn’t bothered him when his dad had tightened the empire line bow of his Halloween costume and smiled down at him as he’d told him how sweet he looked.

And it doesn’t bother him now that the backs of his drawers are lined full of light silks and lace, a small fortune of babydolls and lingerie sets still boxed as delicately as the day he bought them and stacked neatly under his bed.

The problem is that it bothers other people. As much as he tries not to let this fact weigh on him it’s still a fact nonetheless, and one that’s often made a struggle for him to ignore. Friends who’d scoffed at him when he’d confided his proclivities to them, lovers who’d treated it like a joke when he’d just wanted to be told how pretty he was.

That was then though, and now, Jungwoo knows better. Knows better than to mark his value in others’ approval, not to say he didn’t enjoy it, but it had taken time to cultivate security in his predilections and he knows he’s happiest sharing these things with only those who’d appreciate them.

These days, however, it’s less of an issue in selecting those he’s comfortable with but actually having the space to do it.

Living with so many other men in such close proximity presents its own set of problems. A lot of them get ironed out because they have to be, if you live with the same people for so long eventually you have to stamp out some less savoury habits; rationing the hot water so the person ahead of you in the shower is gracious enough to do the same, cleaning up the plates from 1 am snacks so no one (read: Taeyong) will have a fit about the mess in the morning, restricting nighttime activities to when shared bedrooms are only occupied by one.

Some habits are less hard to adapt though. Jaehyun’s a social creature, as often in their bedroom as he is other peoples but a couple of private hours in the evenings doesn’t really cut it for Jungwoo. The months he’d spent at home in his blissfully empty childhood bedroom had in some ways been as much of a curse as they had been a blessing. He’d allowed himself to get used to the four walls he could surround himself in only to let himself unfurl.

He’d gotten too comfortable letting his sister curl his hair and coat his lashes with mascara like the makeup artists do and the long evenings after she’d left where he could stare at his reflection, the deep curve that garter belts would cut into his already narrow waist, the flow of gossamer over his clean-shaved thighs, how devastatingly _pretty_ he’d looked.

But here in his cramped little dorm bedroom, he can’t have that anymore, no matter how much he’s taught himself to crave it.

Amongst all the unknowing oppression of his dormmates there’s one obvious exception, Doyoung.

Doyoung who listens to him so deeply Jungwoo doesn’t even have to open his mouth. Doyoung who cares for him so strongly he’d burn bridges just to make Jungwoo smile. Doyoung who understands him so innately that Jungwoo’s willing, eager to lay every part of himself bare for Doyoung to pick apart and appreciate.

The nights when the dorms are free and he can slip down to Doyoung’s room are next to none and this night, in particular, Jungwoo intends to make special.

It’s Chuseok holidays and those left lingering in the dorms have made themselves scarce for most of the day and into the evening. Jungwoo hadn’t planned to come back from his parents so early but the situation to have Doyoung all to himself had oh so eagerly presented itself and Jungwoo would be a fool if he didn’t reach out and take it.

It ends up being fortuitous that he’s at his parents' home anyway, giving him the opportunity to root through the back of his wardrobe for the special boxes he’s kept safe and saved, ribbon still tying them closed as if they’re gifts waiting for him to open. Jungwoo knows, can’t think of anything else, that the real present won’t be opening the lid though, it’ll be later when he gets to hear what Doyoung’s thinking when he sees him in them.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time Jungwoo gets back to the dorms, plenty of time to clean himself up and dress himself down. Yuta had been the only one still hanging around when he’d gotten out of the shower but he too had eventually left after curling soft waves into the lengths of Jungwoo’s hair. He’s done a good job, Jungwoo thinks, better than he could manage, as he admires the result in his and Jaehyun’s mirror. The style suits him, light volume livening up the freshly dyed brown. Something about how his doe eyes can look out just around the border of the curtain his hair creates makes him feel coy, a little teasing.

Jungwoo hasn’t had time to himself like this for months, always too busy with late schedules or clingy groupmates to have any meaningful amount of time to fully enjoy himself. Sure, quick fucks after hours whenever he and Doyoung can manage are good but nothing quite gets under his skin like this, already halfway to ruin and he hasn't even properly begun, butterflies in his stomach that don’t tire till hours after.

A few aimless laps around his room are all it takes for Jungwoo to give in to his excitement, temptation leading him downstairs, an unassuming bag bundled tightly in his arms, into Doyoung’s currently empty bedroom.

Doyoung has good taste and his room is a testament to that. Clean lines, light colours and aromatic perfumes, subtle yet distinctly Doyoung’s. It acts as a good canvas, Jungwoo thinks, for the two of them, together they have the right kind of energy to comfortably fill in the blank spaces that Doyoung’s design leaves.

The elegant white box has yet to leave where it's tightly swaddled in Jungwoo’s arms till now as he lays it down on Doyoung’s made bed. The gloss lid shimmers a little under the top light as the ribbons jostle it, drawing away like curtains under Jungwoo’s gentle touch.

He hasn’t seen this piece in months, hasn’t worn it since shortly after he’d bought it. It’s a little silly to say but in a way, he’s missed it. Perhaps that’s what makes it all the more of a reward to finally wear it again.

The perfumed tissue paper still sits around it light as clouds, fluttering away just like vapour as if sensing Jungwoo’s fingers about to pry the garment out from beneath it.

The bulk of the garment is fresh white tulle structured with satin ribbon trim. The shoulder straps are narrow, dotted with little bows where they meet the barely-there swell of the cups. The pleats over where his nipples would lie underneath mean it sits comfortably next to his skin but enough give for any wandering fingers to slip under.

The dress part stitched to the underband, all one piece with a slit right down the equator. Jungwoo can already see it with it laid on the bed, how it’ll hang off his own frame, carefully concealed yet tauntingly exposed.

The sleeves mirror the skirt, the same snowy white that will bunch close to his skin partway down his upper arm to his elbow leaving the shoulder exposed. Ribbon and bow circling the top ban mirroring the one that sits around his chest. The sleeves, like the skirt, are both split at the outermost part of the arm, leaving them to flow naturally down to the elbow.

The expensive details are the embellishments. Dainty pink flowers stitched into the mesh, getting more abundant the closer they get to the hem. They make the fabric bunch more, the delicate weight of the thread giving the garment life and movement.

It’s almost enough to just stand here admiring it but what a waste it would be not to admire himself beneath the elegant cuts of satin, not to have Doyoung admire him laid out like an angel, a vision in white for his eyes only.

Settling himself alongside the now opened box, Jungwoo earths out the rest of his set from the bag he’d brought down with him. There’s a couple of things folded up there; panties, stockings and a garter belt, all matched as closely as possible to the negligee. Jungwoo’s done a pretty good job of it too, the denier of the stockings almost identical to the skirt, the white satin cut of the panties has a shine just like the ribbon trim.

He takes his time with it all like it’s a ritual, slipping his clothes off and neatly folding them at the end of Doyoung’s bed before moving onto the white set in front of him. The panties go on first, sliding smoothly along his freshly shaved skin, the high cut of the lace edging snapping comfortably into place.

The garter belt is next, it’s a pretty little thing, unassuming thin straps that loop his waist but Jungwoo knows from experience that it’s more strict than it’s dainty appearance lets on. The widest part cinches at the narrowest part of his waist making it look even smaller whilst the bite of the elastic is ever-present enough to prompt him to keep his posture trained yet not punishing enough for Jungwoo not to enjoy it, the faint red marks when he comes to take it off will complement the new flush painted on his skin anyway.

It always feels like a performance, something grand and theatrical as he pulls on the stockings. Arching his leg and straightening his back, Jungwoo positions himself like someone’s already watching, imaginary eyes glued on the artfully set lines of his body.

The light snap of the buckles clicking onto the garters breaks the still air that’s settled in the room, the only other sound being Jungwoo’s hitched little breaths as he runs his hands down the stockings, smoothing out any folds or imperfections.

Anticipation building too high, Jungwoo rushes a little more than he wants to as the babydoll slips over his head. Eager to see himself as he adjusts the straps and lets the skirt piece fall gently around his sides.

The fabrics cool, still foreign to his body. Maybe that’s why he shivers but it’s more likely because of the sight of himself in the full-length mirror Doyoung has propped up against the far wall.

Jungwoo’s stunning. He hears it from his members, from stylists, from strangers even but that doesn’t mean the same to him as seeing himself with his own eyes.

The sleeves are still a little ruffled, the front parts of his hair creeping too close to his eyes but aside from that he looks perfect.

Jungwoo had used to spend hours lamenting over why he liked things like this so much. None of his school friends seemed to share this particular interest or anything even remotely similar and thus he was left in the dark, alone to pick apart his psyche looking for any explanation. The questions never really left him, always left wondering why he got flutters in his stomach when he’d sit in front of the dressing room mirror watching as the makeup artists painted him like a picture, the pleasing feeling he’d get monitoring himself on the screen after photoshoots.

All the unknowns don’t matter so much now. The simple fact is that Jungwoo feels best when he looks pretty, and he looks prettiest when he’s dolled up in lace and silk.

Light colours look good on him, more than good with the way they pull out the warm tones of his skin, make his eyes sparkle all the more when they get damp and glazed over with tears. The straps would start to have a geometric quality if there were more of them, but as is they look subtle and refined, displacing from themselves to the curves of Jungwoo’s body that they highlight, the dainty set of his waist, the swell of his hips all the way down to the length of his legs.

It’s the details that grab Jungwoo’s attention though, the darling pink petals floating down the length of the mesh, so light a breeze could send them drifting away.

It makes him feel light, this weightless feeling that Jungwoo feels like he’s constantly chasing, eager to get away from the constant pressures around him and become something different. Air under his wings spreading them further, taking him higher.

All the lights are switched on before Jungwoo settles into his chosen position, legs folded and parted either side of him, his chest arched forward while his hands on his ankles steady him. He wants Doyoung to see him properly, see the lines of his outfit lit up by the light’s bold glow, the silhouette of his body through the transparent curtain the cloth creates.

Positioned exactly opposite him, the mirror is able to catch the last rays of the sunset through the blind slats, spreading the beams across the room. He looks like a daydream, Jungwoo can’t help but think, lit up by the warm glow like a renaissance painting.

Jungwoo couldn’t tear his eyes off of himself even if he wanted to, too caught up in the image before him, studying every detail of himself so acutely he’d still be able to see himself with his eyes shut. It feeds some narcissistic streak that runs deep through himself but Jungwoo can’t help but indulge, obsessed with the way it sinks him further and further into this light headspace.

Fortunately, it’s not that long of a wait before he hears the distant sound of the dorm’s front door closing, the soft tread of footsteps cutting through Jungwoo’s daze just enough for his eyes to float from his own reflection to the door swinging open.

The first thing that Jungwoo registers is that Doyoung looks buzzed, light flush over the highest point of his cheekbones. He’d been out with his brother while they’re schedules are both still empty and it looks as though he’s still running off the gentle elation of spending time in person. The second thing that Jungwoo notices is the way Doyoung’s eyes widen momentarily before they narrow as he takes in the image of Jungwoo spread out on his bed waiting for him.

It’s the same feeling as if his hands are already on him, the sensation of Doyoung’s gaze roaming over him, regarding him so intensely Jungwoo’s sure there wouldn’t be a thing he’d be able to hide.

These moments as Doyoung picks him apart with nothing but his critical gaze are so intense it makes whatever neurons that are wired to make him feel this way fire so rapidly it’s like there’s white noise ringing through his ears, blood rushing through his veins as his heart picks up, twitches in his fingers as he aches to _feel_.

Moments like this, Jungwoo can’t want for anything else. To be dolled up for Doyoung, pretty and pleasing to him, a vision in lace and gossamer purely for Doyoung’s satisfaction. It’s so intense, this need to be desired by him, that Jungwoo can’t fathom how he ever managed to function without it.

Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he steps properly into his room, just slides his jacket off his shoulders and chucks it onto their managers abandoned bed before circling back around to stand in front of Jungwoo, all the while not taking his eyes off of Jungwoo still form.

The attention has made Jungwoo tense up ever so slightly, eager to present the best image of himself. He’s thighs are starting to get twitchy now after being spread and folded under himself for this long but now the aches in his muscles are the furthest thing from his mind as he arches his back millimetres more and tilts his chin to catch the gaze of the man stood above him.

Doyoung’s still carrying the frenzied energy he picks up sometimes, like when he’s been on stage, after he has a good day in the studio, the adrenaline he builds up in the practice room.

Jungwoo’s familiar with this particular look though if anything’s clear from the slight dampness clinging to his bottom lip and the red dusting the tips of his ears. He knows he’s mostly sober, just a drink or two enough to have his blood rising. He knows the mood it puts Doyoung in, the pent up liveliness he must be aching to release.

Doyoung moves first, just like jungwoo was waiting for. His fingers, still chilled from the early evening, trace the line of Jungwoo’s jaw, his neck giving a little as the rough pads of Doyoung’s fingertips drift to cup his head from behind his ear.

“Is this one new?” Doyoung’s voice is low and steady, but there’s a little quickness to it that gives him away.

“Not new, just special.” And special it is. It had cost a large chunk out of Jungwoo’s first few paychecks, the first real reward he’d treated himself to not long after his debut, one he’d had his eyes on for months and hadn’t felt such pure joy and stimulation before when he’d finally been able to try it on.

Doyoung steps back and Jungwoo has to tighten his hands where they’re circled around his ankles to stop himself from reaching out and pulling him back down. Instead, he sits still, watches Doyoung’s purposeful movements till he’s a metre or so away. Hands linked behind his back and legs casually parted, he looks as if he’s studying a piece of art in a gallery. It makes Jungwoo shiver.

“Stand up. I want to see you properly.”

There’s a gentle stiffness in his knees that quickly dissipates as Jungwoo lets his joints unlock, feet soundlessly meeting the floor and his back straightening, stretching out to his full height.

Doyoung’s interrupting Jungwoo’s line of vision to his reflection in the mirror. But that’s not what Jungwoo’s focused on now, he’s focused on how Doyoung’s dark eyes are scanning over the entire length of his body, the way they catch on the parts his lingerie accentuates, carefully considering every exposed inch of his skin.

The attention feels exhilarating, entirely different from the interrogating eyes of film crews and audiences. It’s unique to Doyoung, only him who can make the hairs on his arm stand on end with just a look.

“God, you look so pretty.” Doyoung sounds a bit wounded as he says it, like Jungwoo’s torn up something normally stable inside of him so his wires are now exposed, volatile sparks flying from his edges.

He likes when people call him pretty. Darling, sweet, pretty little Jungwoo, it’s a nice reassurance of his own desirability, but it’s different when Doyoung says it, the thrill doesn’t wear off the same way it has for everyone else. It excites him, makes him shake with want, a burning difference between knowing people see Jungwoo as covetable versus the overwhelming knowledge that Doyoung does too.

“This one’s my favourite,” Jungwoo swallows the shakiness in his voice, desperate to show Doyoung just how much he’s been looking forward. “I wanted you to see it.”

“You wanted me to see you in it.” Doyoung corrects him, half-joking but too close to the truth for him to laugh.

Jungwoo nods. “Do you like it?”

“I’ll show you how much I like it.” Doyoung’s steps start first but once Jungwoo’s mind catches up he’s moving backwards in time with him.

Jungwoo’s back on his knees on the bed where Doyoung found him when he finally touches him properly, kissing him as softly as his mood allows whilst his fingers move towards his body, tracing the bias of the thread till they end up gripping Jungwoo’s thighs right over where the garters lie.

“Have you been waiting for me long?” Doyoung says in between increasingly rushed kisses.

“It’s okay, I’ve kept myself entertained.”

Doyoung’s eyes drift to the mirror behind him before quickly swinging back to Jungwoo, smug understanding now painting his face. Jungwoo smiles back, he likes when Doyoung plays with him like this. Normally it’s Jungwoo doing the teasing so it feels fresh when the rise is being coaxed out of him instead.

“You’ve been enjoying yourself without me then, have you?”

Jungwoo’s hands sneak down to rest on top of Doyoung’s, guiding them so they rest on the fabric that circles his waist. “How could I not?”

“I need to keep you on a tighter leash then,” Doyoung hums, fingers tightening so they press white marks into Jungwoo’s skin. “If you’re acting like this when I’m not around.”

Jungwoo’s presses a kiss onto the tip of Doyoung’s nose before he’s leaning around to his ear, teeth dragging down the helix. “I thought you liked it when I behaved badly.”

“Yeah,” Doyoung chuckles. “I think you like it more though.”

With that he’s pushing back in, hard and fast so that Jungwoo’s balance is shifting, hands darting out behind himself so he can catch his body before it falls into the sheets. Doyoung isn’t deterred, kissing down his jaw and neck while his hands smooth up his flanks, rolls of fabric getting caught in the gaps between his fingers.

“Did you already stretch yourself?” Jungwoo has his reply on the tip of his tongue but Doyoung’s fingers are quicker to the mark, toying with his nipples through the barrier of lace making him yelp instead.

“Mmm,” he nods rapidly while trying to catch his breath, embarrassingly short already after so little time. “In the shower.”

Doyoung leans back. “Show me.”

It’s lucky Jungwoo doesn’t have much sense of shame, not around Doyoung at least. It lets him move quickly, shifting on the small unoccupied space on the bed so he’s on his knees with one forearm pressed to the bed, the other hand crawling back to pull the crotch of his panties aside to fully expose himself right where Doyoung wants.

Doyoung swears lightly as his hands gravitate to Jungwoo’s ass, fingers inching closer to where Jungwoo’s just revealed. Jungwoo had felt the wetness of the excess lube dirtying the inside of his panties so there’s no doubt Doyoung can see it too, far more than necessary but Jungwoo likes the obscenity of it, the filthy sounds and the feeling of it smearing onto the inside of his thighs.

“You’re so pretty everywhere, Woo.” Doyoung’s muttering, hesitating before he reluctantly pulls away.

Leaning his head on his folded forearms with his hips still propped up, Jungwoo watches Doyoung as he undresses. He’s fast and purposeful but this is Doyoung, still taking the time to fold his clothes, extra seconds that have Jungwoo whining for his attention.

He expects him to come back, pull his hips up and push his head into the sheets as he slides into him, take him hard and fast like Jungwoo knows he’s been dying to. But instead of going to the bed, he’s moving in the opposite direction, lifting the mirror and propping it up so it faces the end of his bed.

“I want you right here on my lap.” Doyoung’s saying as soon as he’s back behind Jungwoo, his hand on his shoulder, guiding him back upright. Once off his arms, Jungwoo starts to turn but Doyoung stops him, hands stopping his hips halfway through their motion.

“No, the other way around. I want you to watch yourself while you fuck yourself on me.” Jungwoo's thighs would probably have buckled at the bluntness of Doyoung’s words if it weren’t for Doyoung steading him.

Just as Doyoung wants, Jungwoo moves himself till he’s straddling Doyoung’s thighs, back flush with his chest whilst his hands try to find purchase on his waist. Doyoung hums, pleased sounding, bucking his hips a little to rearrange himself in the space that still exists between them.

The mirror is tilted just right so that Jungwoo can see every inch of himself bared before it, perfectly lit so that it’s impossible to miss the details, the way his chest rises and falls with shallow breaths under the weak restraints of his bodice, the desperation obvious on his face highlighted by the moisture clinging to his waterline, the damp patch on the front of his underwear where he’s already pressing hard and wet against.

Jungwoo might have felt a little embarrassment for how quickly Doyoung was him worked up, already making a mess of himself with barely a few touches, if it weren’t for the way he can feel how much Doyoung’s affected too, the aching length of his cock up pressed to the small of his back that Jungwoo’s desperately trying not to grind back against.

A little lost in his inner turmoil, Jungwoo doesn’t register the hand slipping behind him and over his ass till Doyoung’s fingers are gripping the fragile back of his panties and pulling them aside to rest on his cheek, exposing him just enough for Doyoung to use properly.

“Jungwoo?” After a few wide-eyed blinks at the man in the mirror behind him Jungwoo remembers to nod in reply. “I want you to ride me, you can do that can’t you?”

“Yes, yes I can.” _I’d do anything at all_.

Doyoung smiles as if just hearing Jungwoo’s breathless voice fills him with that much satisfaction. “And you’re going to be good and keep your eyes on us, aren’t you?”

Jungwoo doesn’t respond verbally this time, his lips parted as he nods rapidly. Normally Doyoung wouldn’t move till he got some words out of him but Jungwoo’s already taking the initiative, moving his hips flush with Doyoung and rubbing his ass against where he can feel him straining, taking any other protests straight out of Doyoung’s mouth.

After a few filthy grinds on his hips onto Doyoung’s, gradually getting accustomed to the strain in his thighs from the precise movements, Jungwoo quickly gets frustrated, all too intoxicated on the thought of how Doyoung wants him, bouncing on his length till he can barely think, that his patience is already wearing thin.

Doyoung doesn’t move to help him even as Jungwoo’s whines start to get louder, obviously taking great pleasure in seeing Jungwoo squirm on his thighs trying desperately to create more friction. The calm, sure way Jungwoo can see him sitting, leaning casually on the palms of his hands so he can spy around Jungwoo’s back to see him in the mirror, only serves to fuel him, ass rubbing down on him as forcefully as he can manage to try to coax a crack to appear through Doyoung’s stoicism. It’s electrifying seeing himself reduced like this, to something carnal and raw, while Doyoung looks so in control, holding a barely perceivable power over Jungwoo that he’s unable to fight.

“Look at yourself, Woo,” Doyoung’s voice is a murmur, low and close to the shell of Jungwoo’s ear as he leans ever so slightly forward. “I’m not even inside you and you’re acting like a bitch in heat.”

Jungwoo tries his best to reach behind himself and guide Doyoung to where his hole is waiting but his hands are too shaky, arms too weak to hold his body still with only one left planted beneath him to support himself. “Please, ah- please help-”

Jungwoo’s lucky that Doyoung’s not as patient as he looks as at the first sign of Jungwoo breaking he’s taking the prompt to move. One hand low on Jungwoo’s hip bordering his ass and the other gripping his length Doyoung guides Jungwoo slowly down till the tip of his cock is pressing on Jungwoo had left himself wet and waiting.

The pressure is barely there, more the heat of Doyoung’s skin against his than anything but it has Jungwoo gasping. His hands dart to his sides to hold on to the outsides of Doyoung’s thighs as he tries to push down against the resistance of Doyoung’s own hand on his hip.

“Ah ah,” Doyoung tuts, still not letting Jungwoo gain an inch on him, “Head up.”

Jungwoo hadn’t even realised his head had fallen, hanging between his shoulders while he gasps in lungfuls of air. He’s quick to rectify his mistake, neck pulling back so fast it borders on whiplash. The little stars obscuring his vision take a few seconds to fade till he can see himself properly again, soft waves of his hair slowly turning messy as strands start to fly loose, his mouth his hanging open and he can’t seem to close it, tongue darting out to wet his plush bottom lip as his panting dries it’s moisture.

Doyoung looks pleased behind him, a glint in his eyes as he finally loosens his bruising grip enough to let Jungwoo properly press down, the slick tip of his cock caught on his rim pushing in against the loosened muscles till it’s just barely sheathed inside.

Doyoung’s moaning but it’s almost completely eclipsed by the desperate sounds Jungwoo’s making, loud cries that would be getting them bangs on the wall if anyone else was in the dorms.

“Fuck, your so wet. You really were having fun without me, weren’t you?”

“More, Doyoung please I need more.” Jungwoo wiggles his hips a little, a vain attempt to have Doyoung press further into him, to feel the proper stretch of his hole around him rather than the teasing pressure Doyoung’s giving him.

His pleading eyes do more to convince Doyoung than his begging has as soon after they lock with Doyoung’s in the clear reflection of the mirror his hips are bucking up almost uncontrollably, hands on Jungwoo’s hips tightening so he can stop him from squirming as he fucks fully into him.

It feels so good to finally be filled after the hours Jungwoo had been waiting since he opened himself up. He’s content to settle himself in Doyoung’s lap to accustom himself to the tight wet stretch, empty feeling completely replaced.

Doyoung seems to be faring much the same, fingertips rubbing tight circles on the swell of Jungwoo’s thigh just above where his garters are resting. Jungwoo would call him a hypocrite with the way his own gaze has slipped, forehead buried in the junction of Jungwoo’s shoulder but Doyoung’s already done a good enough job to knock all the words out of his mouth, all the thoughts gone from his head but how stuffed full he feels.

“Doie,” Jungwoo sounds so whiny, hands fussing with Doyoung’s to try and get his attention. “Look at me.”

And Doyoung does, looking up to watch as Jungwoo’s hips twitch and his arms shake, listening to his gasps as he smoothes down the creased fabric of his sleeves.

Still, it’s not enough. Jungwoo, ever insatiable, starts to move his hips, small shaky movements at first that build till they’re bold enough to have Doyoung lifting his head to stare. His grip loosens, less restraining and more supportive so Jungwoo can move easier, his hips moving ever so slightly up each time Jungwoo drops down.

Everything feels so hot. Doyoung’s chest flush with his back, his hands palming his thighs, his cock so deep and hot and wet inside him. Jungwoo can’t get enough, moans escaping his lips each time he moves to take Doyoung an inch deeper.

Once Jungwoo’s comfortable with his pace, bouncing with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, Doyoung’s hands start to wander. Starting off where his waist is cinched prettily and working up underneath the loose fabric of the dress till they’re at his chest. His thumb rubs over Jungwoo’s nipple, friction from the rough-textured mesh making his skin pebble.

His hair’s bouncing each time his ass drops down, the skirt of his babydoll flaring out at his sides. One of the straps has fallen off his shoulder and Doyoung’s taken advantage of the bared skin, working in sweet kisses in between the harsh bites he’s marking him with. Doyoung seems to sense his eyes on him, looking up to meet him with his own as if he’d spoken out loud. Maybe he had without meaning to, little yelps growing louder in pitch till they caught his attention.

“Look at you, so needy. Does watching us together really get you off this much?” Jungwoo’s eyes slip shut, whining at Doyoung’s crass words.

“Ah- yes, yes.” Jungwoo wants to say he likes it when he looks pretty, he likes dressing up, he likes seeing Doyoung take apart what he’s put together stitch by stick but it’s too hard to get the words out, drunk on the feeling on Doyoung stretching him wide open. Instead, his head rolls back, tortured moans ripping through his throat as he leans back onto Doyoung.

Whatever short reprieve he has is cut short as Doyoung’s hand pulls off his now sore chest to grasp his chin, pulling it back down so his eyes can catch Doyoung’s just as he bucks his hips harshly up.

Jungwoo cries out, trying to fuck himself back on Doyoung like he knows he wants him to, ignoring the tension in his back to focus on the overwhelming feeling of fullness.

“You always look like this when I’m inside you. You get this teary look in your eyes like I’ve fucked you dumb.”

It’s a little crazy how much Doyoung’s words affect him, such a visceral, physical reaction that Jungwoo can’t stop the way he clenches around him, pressing his hips down as far as he can and dirtily grinding on his cock.

Doyoung laughs, a dark, short sound, but Jungwoo doesn’t have the presence to pick apart what he finds funny. Instead, he Just lets himself feel, drifting further back into his blissed-out headspace as Doyoung’s hand moves to cradle his neck.

The tiny back of Jungwoo’s panties keeps slipping back closer and closer to where it’s supposed to lie with each of Jungwoo’s flurried motions, edging on uncomfortable where it’s starting to brush against Doyoung’s length each time he slips from Jungwoo’s hole. Hand untangling from where it’s playing with Jungwoo’s garter belt, his fingers slip between them under the back of Jungwoo’s babydoll to pull it back aside.

Jungwoo yelps at the way the fabric cuts into the creases of his thighs with the added tension, the far too light rub of the silk against where his cock is straining against it but he whines more as Doyoung grabs a handful of his ass, nails cutting into his plush skin.

It’s hard to keep his hips bouncing when all he wants to do is grind back into the hand practically glued to his ass, but the look on Doyoung’s face is commanding, a clear statement of exactly how he wants Jungwoo to move.

The hand around his neck momentarily tightens as Doyoung’s chin hooks over his shoulder, Jungwoo’s breath catching whether from the pressure on his throat or the intensity of Doyoung’s gaze reflecting back onto him from the mirror, Jungwoo’s past the state of mind to be able to tell.

“I should get you a collar.” Doyoung’s other hand tightens too, fingernails running roughly up the swell of his ass no doubt leaving bright red marks in its wake until his fingers are back under the belt making it grip Jungwoo’s waist a breadth tighter. “A pretty lace one to match your dress.”

Jungwoo whines, pitiful and high pitched. A collar sounds nice, the same clean white lace as the one trimming his negligee with ribbon lining it, a pretty bow at the centre wrapping him up as Doyoung’s present. The urge to let his eyes slip shut peaks at the thought but Jungwoo fights the feeling back down, Doyoung has asked him to watch and Jungwoo wants nothing more right now than to do what he’s told.

“Or maybe I should get you a leather one, something I can fasten nice and tight.” Doyoung’s hand tightens again punctuated by a harsh thrust of his hips, it’s not like before though, this time his grip is tight and punishing, rendering Jungwoo helpless to do anything but sink into the pressure, try to steady himself as his body is oriented to Doyoung’s axis. “It would leave such pretty marks around your neck. Remind you who you belong to, who this is for.”

Jungwoo can imagine it so vividly, already detached enough from reality that he can feel the heavy weight of it resting around his throat, not Doyoung’s hand but something much more unyielding. A mark of ownership, Doyoung’s pretty doll, all dressed up for him.

He’ll probably end up with bruises ringing his neck anyway, with the way Doyoung’s been biting into his skin upwards from where one of his straps rests on his shoulder. Ones that the stylists will have a nightmare trying to cover up yet Jungwoo couldn’t care less, not with the way Doyoung’s breath is heating up his skin, the sharp edges of his teeth making Jungwoo twitch and whine.

“Yeah, tell me more.” Jungwoo can barely do the work anymore, relying on Doyoung’s own thrusts to rock his weak body.

“I could get you something delicate and small like a necklace, something you can wear all the time.” Jungwoo must be crying now, otherwise, how did his eyes get so blurry if it weren’t for the tears escaping them with each of Doyoung’s harsh jerks up. “Would you like that? Something gold and expensive so I can always remind you that you're mine.”

“Ah- yes, I’m yours.” The pleasure has built up so much that Jungwoo can barely get his body to move, head only filled with the thought of how big Doyoung, _his_ Doyoung feels inside him, how well he fucks him till he’s no more than a ragdoll, a pretty toy for him to use.

Jungwoo’s hands gripping Doyoung’s thighs finally slip off, all the strength leaving his arms as they buckle forward leaving him falling forward into the sheets, his legs awkwardly bend either side of Doyoung’s where he tries desperately to stop his cock slipping past his slick rim. Doyoung’s hand on his neck retracts, leaving him to fall the rest of the way till his cheek is meeting the duvet, neck still tilted to his eyes don’t leave the mirror.

“I’ve made a mess of your pretty dress,” Doyoung hums, hands running down his spine, stroking the white folds from the fabric till it lies flat, flush with his arched back. But as soon as he’s there Doyoung’s moving away, pulling out of Jungwoo’s hole despite his pitiful cries of protest.

Jungwoo’s arms are too shaky to push his torso up to turn around, legs too unsteady to prop his ass up properly to try and entice Doyoung back. Instead, Jungwoo lets his cheek melt into the sheets, sweat on his forehead making the hair he’d so carefully curled stick to the side of his face.

Eyes unable to look anywhere else, he has no choice but to study his own face. Jungwoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen himself look so fucked out before, drool slipping over his bitten lip where he can’t manage to close them.

Jungwoo has to admit it’s a good look on him, all the stress and seriousness melting from his expression till there’s only room for pure bliss. No wonder Doyoung fucks him so well when he’s rewarded with someone as pretty as this.

Doyoung’s not gone long, fumbling about behind him with Jungwoo’s hips till they’re propped up on a couple of his pillows, the right height so that his knees can bend comfortably and his back can arch gracefully with his head and chest still level with the mattress.

There’s a sharp ribbing noise that Jungwoo belatedly realises is his panties tearing, the dirty material being pulled clean off him so his weeping cock is pressing directly into the soft down of the pillows, his loose hole presented.

He wiggles his hips a bit, letting the wetness from the tip of his cock rub off on the pillows in a vain attempt to chase some friction. The back of his negligee slips up again despite Doyoung’s efforts to keep it neat, resting bunched up just above the straps around his waist. There’s nothing left now, Jungwoo realises, to keep Doyoung’s eyes off his ass. His cheeks redden but it doesn’t stop him from trying to arch just a little further.

“I’ve made a mess of you here too.” Jungwoo feels it as a light finger traces his swollen hole, the lube that Doyoung had fucked out of him all smeared around his rim, probably his precome too. it makes it far easier for the finger to slip inside as the muscles give. Weakly fluttering as the pad of Doyoung’s finger drags on his insides, wet and hot.

“ _Hyung_.” Jungwoo’s voice is so broken he barely even recognises that it’s him speaking, head to muddled to put all the desires in his head into words and just settling on moaning for the man he wants to fill them.

“What’s wrong? Feel empty when I’m not inside you?” Jungwoo whines again, a muffled _yes_ spoken half into the sheets under him. Doyoung’s teasing is borderline cruel when he’s in this kind of mood and Jungwoo’s still not quite adapted to dealing with it.

There’s something bigger pressing against him now. Jungwoo tilts his head up to watch as Doyoung lines his hips behind him, he can’t see but he knows the heavy weight pressing into the crack of his ass must be Doyoung’s cock, the angry red tip resting just inches from where he really wants him.

“Please, I want-” Jungwoo’s voice cuts off with a whine as a hand comes off his hip to grab a handful of his ass, pulling to the side to expose him even more.

“Want what?” Jungwoo’s hands fist in the sheets by his head, hole clenching around nothing. “Can you not even beg? Have I fucked that out of you too?”

Slowly, Doyoung’s moving forward, the hand holding his ass following the curve of his spine till he’s pressing on the centre of his back, holding Jungwoo into the sheets as if he had the strength to move.

“This is what you want right?” And just as he says it, Doyoung’s pushing back in, one hand on his hips to stop him from shying away as he slides in heavy and slick till he’s fully sheathed.

There’s no preamble, Doyoung’s fucking him hard and fast into the mattress from the second he starts, not giving Jungwoo time to catch his breath as his torso gets shunted up the bed with each thrust forward. Jungwoo feels as though he can barely move, iron grip in the sheets around his head as he tries to steady himself from the combined sensation of Doyoung using his hole and the frustratingly gentle pressure of his own cock against the stack of pillows.

He’s so so close, hips doing their best to grind into the pillows even as Doyoung uses them as leverage to rail into him. The patch on precome he’s forced to rest in is getting impressively large, the feeling of warm wetness is dirty and almost shameful on his heated skin. The one under his chin, where his spit has been drooling out of his open mouth is just as bad but Jungwoo can’t bring himself to care, letting his cheek get wet as Doyoung’s hand keeps him firmly beneath him.

Doyoung looks just wretched. A frown etched between his brows as if he’s concentrating hard about ploughing Jungwoo into the sheets and now just running of instinct. It’s probably both Jungwoo thinks, the way he’s dragging over his prostate with practically every thrust is a little more frenzied than controlled.

Jungwoo can’t quite understand why Doyoung’s hand is moving off his back till it’s reaching to fist in his hair. Grasping the strands close to the roots so it stings rather than hurts to pull his head just far enough off the sheets that Jungwoo’s back aches with the stretch. Like this, with his head up and his hips still pinned between Doyoung and the pillows, Jungwoo’s helpless to move anywhere but exactly where Doyoung wants him.

“Look at you,” Doyoung’s saying. Jungwoo can’t tell if he’s speaking loud or quietly over his own constant moans monopolising his ears. “You look so gorgeous like this, so gorgeous when I’ve got my cock in you.”

That’s all it takes, his own debauched face staring back at him as his fringe bounces with each of Doyoung’s thrusts, for him to come. Little yelps escaping his pink bitten lips becoming lewd cries that are so loud his ears won’t stop ringing, spilling onto the pillow he’s been inadvertently humping.

Jungwoo barely registers his cheek meeting the sheets again, Doyoung letting his hair go in favour of stroking down his shaking spine. An almost comforting gesture as the waves of his orgasm make his muscles tense, joints weak as though his body’s breaking apart from the intensity of it.

Doyoung’s movements behind him don’t stop. If anything they just get faster, fucking Jungwoo hard and fast as he chases his own realise. Even as the bright lights obscuring Jungwoo’s vision fade as he starts coming down from his high, Doyoung’s pace doesn’t falter, the constant push and pull of his cock against Jungwoo’s now oversensitive walls dragging his orgasm out as long as possible.

“Can I, _fuck_ , come inside?” Doyoung says between gritted teeth. Even as spent as he is now, Doyoung’s words send shudders back up Jungwoo’s spine, his hips squirming back as far as he can manage half-collapsed against the pillows under him.

It’s too much of a struggle to get the words out of his mouth. so instead Jungwoo just nods, letting his cheek sink into the pillows as he watches Doyoung in the mirror with half-lidded eyes.

It doesn’t take much longer till Doyoung’s coming too, hands holding Jungwoo’s hips tight like he’s something precious, like he’s scared Jungwoo will float too far away if he lets go. Jungwoo’s eye’s slip shut as he feels Doyoung spilling inside of him, filling his with a warmth that travels all the way to his extremities and making his toes curl where they’re trapped in his stockings.

It’s might be seconds or minutes till Doyoung pulls out, Jungwoo doesn’t know, all he really cares about is the gentle way Doyoung’s moving him off the pillows carefully so his wobbly knees don’t buckle, arranging him so he can lie comfortably on his back, his head now on the pillows they’ve left unsoiled.

Jungwoo lets himself relax, head sinking back into the pillows rather than being fucked forward into them, as Doyoung scuffles around him. He hums a little as Doyoung’s come starts to drip out of him, tempted to run his fingers around his rim to feel the mess but too exhausted to actually lift his arm from where it rests on his chest.

“Don’t fall asleep, Woo. You have to take this off first.” Doyoung says, throat a little hoarse, as he paws at the clips attached to his garters. Jungwoo grumbles, it doesn’t sound appealing, having to move from where he’s made himself comfortable but at least Doyoung’s gentle hands are there to help him.

It’s smooth sailing once the babydoll is over his head, Jungwoo happy to let Doyoung deal with the rest, bundling him in one of his own shirts before curling around him under the sheets. It’s a little too early to sleep really, Doyoung will probably be up again in an hour or so to clean up the mess between Jungwoo’s thighs while Jungwoo pretends to still be asleep so he doesn’t have to move, but right now Jungwoo’s too content to care, curling into Doyoung’s front and clinging on to his waist like a lifeline.

“We kinda ruined your lingerie.” Doyoung sounds a little apologetic but a little more smug.

“Doesn’t matter, what’s the point of buying something if you’re not gonna use it.” Jungwoo looks up, taking in the sight just above him. Doyoung’s so gorgeous when he has that flush over his cheeks, his hair now in the same disarrayed state as Jungwoo’s. “You can always buy me another, though.”

Doyoung kisses his nose and Jungwoo can feel the smile on his lips even as his eyes slide shut. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> omg i just checked and i used the word pretty 19 times in this fic oops
> 
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/fivebiessings) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/fivebiessings) :))


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